Dream

“Please, tell me about your dream.”

The muscles in Ashlie’s jaw jumped as she clenched for a split second, taking a deep breath. She nodded with a determined expression on her face. She had been the one to bring it up, but she was now unsure that she wanted to recount it.

Seated on the sofa in Dr. Hayz’s office, Ashlie was in her usual spot directly across from the therapist’s armchair. A scheduled session, Ashlie had been holding in the information about a strange dream she had for just over a week. It had, in fact, been weighing heavily on her mind and keeping her awake at night.

“I don’t know if it was a dream,” Ashlie raised her eyes, glancing at the therapist. “I mean, of course it was. It- it just didn’t feel like one.”

At this, Dr. Hayz nodded slowly, with a sympathetic smile.

“I understand, Ashlie. Can you tell me about it?” she asked.

“It felt so real. It felt like I was right there.” Again Ashlie looked at the doctor, feeling slightly foolish as she said the words. She knew it was a dream, and a drunken one at that, but she couldn’t shake the haunting feeling came over her ever time she thought about it.

She remembered having been out to dinner with Miguel the night before, and she remembered her telling her friend that she was in no mood to be there and that she wanted to go home. Miguel had insisted that she just needed to relax. Finally, Ashlie had agreed to have one drink with him.

She really didn’t want to tell the therapist that she’d had anything to drink, as she had no desire to be scolded. She knew that imbibing alcohol could interfere with her medications and already felt ashamed for having given in to peer pressure.

“I see,” the therapist said thoughtfully as she made a note on her pad. “Dreams can often feel real. In such cases, vivid dreams can remain clearly in your memory after you wake, giving them the feeling of being real. Would you rather not talk about it?”

Ashlie did not want to recount it, though she did feel as though she needed to get the weight of it off her chest.

She nodded, taking a deep breath, and shifted uncomfortably where she sat.

“There was a gunfight,” she said uncertainly.

“Like a shootout?” Dr. Hayz watched as Ashlie nodded and made a quick note. “You dreamt of somebody getting shot?”

“Sort of. I don’t know. I think it was at some sort of restaurant, but I’m not sure. It may have been some a meeting. It was sort of fancy.”

“Fancy?”

“Well, everyone there was wearing suits and dresses.” Ashlie replied, wondering what the therapist was writing as she observed her draw a line on the notepad she held on her lap, and then scribble something. She waited a moment before continuing. “And there was a stage. I think someone was making speeches, but I don’t know what was being said. There was a lot of cheering…”

The therapist nodded.

“There was a commotion. People were running. And screaming. And then there was shooting!”

“What was your part in this dream?”

“My part?”

“Your part; what were you doing in the dream?”

“I don’t know. I was in the back, I think. People came running in past and… that is when the shooting started. I watched it happen. They were so close to me.”

“So you were there in an extrinsic capacity,” Dr. Hayz said, more to herself than to Ashlie. She noted the slight shake of her patient’s head as well as her look of confusion. “You were an observer, and not a part of the dream…”

At this, Ashlie’s eyes widened, her expression changing to one of alarm.

“No,” she said, shaking her head. Her brows furrowed and it was clear that she was becoming upset. “I was at a table… sitting at a table! It was so real! And there was a girl at the table with me who saved my life!”

“Apologies, you didn’t mention that when you said you were in the back. I assumed you were watching the dream happen around you.” Dr. Hayz said with a nod.

“No,” Ashlie said, “I was sitting at the table with the girl for a little while before…”

“I see. And who was she? Did you know this girl at the table with you?”

Her eyes had a faraway look, and Ashlie shook her head.

“Maybe… I don’t know. She seemed to know me. And her face was so familiar.”

The doctor wore a slight frown as she scribbled something furiously on the paper in front of her, her lips pursed. She paused, taking a deep breath before looking at her patient.

“Can you tell me anything about this person? Do you remember what she looked like?”

“She had brown hair, tied back, and brown eyes.” Ashlie shrugged, wondering why this detail of her dream would matter to the therapist. Compared to the rest of what she’d said, it seemed trivial. “She wasn’t as old as the others at the restaurant. She smiled a lot, but she didn’t want to be there.”

“How do you know that? Did she say that she didn’t want to be there?” the doctor enquired. “Did she say why?”

Ashlie shook her head, again wondering why this detail might matter.

“You know how sometimes you can just tell that someone doesn’t want to be where they are? Like they’re only there because they have to be…” she said, pursing her lips. She began to feel more uncomfortable, and no longer wanted to talk.

“But you said she smiled a lot.”

“She did. Or at least I think she did. Whenever she looked at me, she smiled. ”Ashlie shook her head again, but this time like she was trying to turn away from something.

“But she didn’t say anything?”

“She- she died!” Ashlie’s jaw clenched, and her eyes welled, tears falling into her lap. Her hand flew to her face and she covered her mouth with it, fighting to stifle her sobs.

“Ashlie-”

Ashlie shook her head, her hand still clamped tightly over her mouth. Her eyes wide, they glistened as they peered into nowhere, seeing only the memory of her dream. She inhaled deeply through her nose.

“When the shots started, the girl pulled me out of my chair and onto the floor.” Ashlie’s hand slowly dropped to her neckline, where she tightly grasped the collar of the t-shirt she wore. She stared blankly at the floor. “She pushed me under the table, and then… then… she fell down and didn’t move.”

Dr. Hayz leaned forward taking her patient’s hand and handing her a tissue. She said nothing, but watched Ashlie continue staring at the floor for a few moments before slowly raising her head to look at her.

“I saw her die.”

The therapist remained silent.

“Does that mean something?”

“Mean something?”

“I don’t know.” Ashlie shook her head with a frown, another tear rolling down her cheek. “Don’t dreams have meanings or something?”

“I can’t say for sure. Dream interpretation is not an exact science. Sometimes dreams can have the feeling of being real. While it is not an uncommon occurrence for someone with your condition,” Dr. Hayz spoke as if reciting something from a book as she met Ashlies gaze. “I must admit, I’m very concerned right now.”

“I don’t understand, “Ashlie said. Her gaze dropped to the hand that held her own. “Because of the dream?”

There was a pause, then the therapist blinked in surprise.

“I’m sorry,” she stammered, letting go of Ashlie’s hand, “I misspoke. I think- I think we’ve covered enough this morning.”

“No…”

Ashlie spoke uncertainly, not taking her eyes off of the doctor. The expression on Dr. Hayz’s face was now her main focus. It frightened her.

She tried to think over everything she’d just told the therapist, to identify what it was she’d said that could have upset her but couldn’t think of anything in her recounting of the dream that would fluster the doctor so.

“I should not have said what I did, Ashlie, and I apologize.” The therapist slowly sat back in her chair still looking perplexed. “I spoke without thinking.”

“What is it?” Ashlie asked, beginning to feel alarmed. “Did I say something?”

“It’s nothing you said, Ashlie.”

“Then what? Was it my dream? Did it mean something?”

Dr. Hayz smiled at Ashlie, studying her face. She did not want to continue the conversation with her.

“I don’t think that it was just a dream you experienced, Ashlie.” The doctor took a deep breath, looking into her patient’s eyes. She continued, speaking slowly so that she could gauge Ashlie’s reaction. “What you described this morning is what happened on the night that you lost your parents.”

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